


The Incubus

by FangamerBowiextreme



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Character Death, Complete, Dark, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Insanity, Physical Abuse, Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:01:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29928984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangamerBowiextreme/pseuds/FangamerBowiextreme
Summary: All she wants is to sleep. To escape the pain. Forget it ever happened. Night after night, he comes to her. His touch is gentle. Tender. Loving. Other words she might have used have been taken. Darkness is heavy, but light is blinding. She reaches for neither. She reaches for *him*. In the haze, ignorance really is *bliss*.
Relationships: Jareth/Sarah Williams
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	1. Night 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- So, I was reading through some Subtilior works recently and felt inspired to attempt my own dark and ominous fever dream lol. I've never written anything quite like this, so I'm a little nervous about it (it's kind of artsy). It is a completed short story. Some important disclaimers: this is a DARK fic with a bewitched Sarah. It is not romantic. No HEA. Depictions of graphic violence, abuse, dubcon, and mental derangement abound. Trigger sensitive readers may want to proceed with caution. You have been warned!

**The Incubus**

* * *

Night 1:

* * *

Sarah opened her eyes. Or, at least...she thought she did.

She blinked slowly, achingly, like the weight of the room was pushing down on her.

But...was it a room?

No. It was black. It was empty. And her body...her body felt so heavy.

She couldn't move. She tried. Or, at least...she thought she did.

She was staring ahead. Upward. Gazing through half-lidded eyes at the nothing that gazed back.

She was so tired. Would it be too much to stay there? To just...fall asleep?

She did not try to move. Did not try to blink. Doing either would not matter. This was nothing, after all. Nothing.

She was laying on the ground. Or was it a floor? Regardless, it felt hard, and cold, and smooth. Or, at least...she thought it did.

Her eyes began to fall shut when a gentle touch trailed down her cheek.

She tried to move against it. Away? But there was nothing. She did nothing.

"Are you awake?"

A voice filled the void. Filled her ears, her blood and her bones. It was a deep sound. A tremor through the black. Sarah knew that voice. It was…

She opened her eyes as much as she could manage. The weight was still there. Only...it wasn't the thing pressing her down.

There was a fingertip at her cheek. A thumb on her chin. She stared up into his eyes. Eyes so blue, and lovely, and filled with black.

An odd sensation took hold of her. Like waves. Like vertigo. Like the feeling...she was about to fall.

She tried to move once more. Tried to escape. Or, at least...she thought she did.

"Shh…" he whispered, and the feeling lulled. The churning stopped. She laid on her back once more.

She closed her eyes as he kissed her cheek.

Her head turned to the side, but only because he'd done so. She felt his hand at her jaw. Felt it splay up into her hair. Her breath came with no sound; a movement so soft, so slow, it was like she wasn't breathing at all.

She could not tell if her eyes were open or closed as he kissed her neck.

She felt his mouth. Felt the gentle pressure there, and the delicate skin of his lips as they brushed against her.

She felt her throat bob. Felt herself swallow as the wave rocked. Was this... nervousness?

But there was no voice to ask that question. No sound. No thought. Nothing at all to guide her. She felt so empty. Just like this place.

She felt dots of pressure moving down her chest. Felt something hot, wet, and sharp accompanying it. His teeth. His tongue. The pinch of pain that came with every nip of skin.

A flare of breath against her breast let her know that they were bare. That she was exposed. That she was laying there cloaked in meaningless darkness. Somewhere deep down, she lamented, for it would not hide her from him. For she was the only thing to see.

A grip on the chin turned her back, and the vision of _him_ let her know that her eyes were open. She couldn't close them anymore.

There was no light. Not a shred. And yet...she saw him. She saw him cast in shadows. Saw his visage blurred by them. Sharp etchings taken back by the void.

It was like...they were the same. Like the push and pull of waves…

He leaned down, and she felt the weight of him on her chest. Felt it push the air from her lungs.

The ends of his hair draped over her shoulders. The fleeting caress featherlight and leaving tingled skin in its wake.

The grip on her chin pulled open her mouth. She stared through the nothing in his eyes when he brought his own closer.

She felt the heat of his breath flooding her mouth. He was hovering there —the skin aching and ready to spark. She did not turn away. She couldn't. She tried. Or, at least...she thought she did.

"Let me kiss you," he said.

Vision faded in and out, and she realized she was blinking. Slowly. Arduously. Her heart was beating every minute. The air in her lungs long since fled.

But that didn't matter. Because this was nothing, after all. Nothing.

Her brow might have tightened. She didn't know. Couldn't know. She was still staring into his eyes. Pleading.

Pleading?

She felt the heat of his breath flooding her mouth, and then the molding of her lips as he invaded it.

She felt...something moving. Something wet. His tongue? No...it was hers. He was kissing her. And she was...she was…

A hand moved in the darkness. Curled behind her neck and gripped her there. It kept her in place. Looking straight ahead. Upward. At him.

A cry of pain echoed in the distance. But it was not her voice. She did not have one.

A tug on the lip was his goodbye, leaving her to stare, once again, into darkness. She felt those same feelings moving down again. Felt each _kiss_ like a hot iron prod.

They circled her breasts. Hovered over each nipple. His breath was suddenly cold, sharp —like ice.

A shiver crawled over her skin, and with it came an inhale. Her chest rose and filled with air. She might have gasped, but the sound was not hers. It couldn't be.

His tongue lightly tapped on a budded nipple. She felt it once, twice, and then the scrape of teeth as he pulled it back.

Was her mouth still open? What was this… an echo with no noise.

A feeling like droplets moved down her abdomen, white hot and scattered. It was painful. It was…

Painful?

She stared up into nothing, and his hands...did not have to hold her down.

She felt her leg moving to the side, but only because he'd done so. Her skin was bare. Everything was bare. She could not look down. They were blanketed in darkness.

Blanketed?

She heard a noise. A hum. A familiar tremble. It moved through her this time, along with the heat and static of his touch.

She blinked one more time. That was his tongue again, wasn't it? It was...touching her. Spreading her. She felt something...twist deep inside. She wanted to move against it. Away? Her brow may have tightened. Maybe she was scowling. She felt a noise escape her, but she did not hear it.

She felt his tongue tracing her, his lips kissing her. She felt his hands bracing her thighs. Holding them apart when they were otherwise lifeless. He was penetrating her. Tasting her. She knew that. She felt that sound pool on her lips and drift away again, and then the discomfort of a heavy, blooming throb.

Her back twisted off the ground. Or, at least...she thought it did.

He paused as the moment endured, the edge of sharp nails digging into her skin as hot air flushed over her. He let out a harsh breath, then bore his tongue deep inside once more.

She felt herself moving against it. Rocking. Like the push and pull of waves.

Wet kisses led him back to her face, and she blinked one more time. She was relieved to see him. To see anything. To not be alone in this...this…

"Open your mouth," he commanded. Sarah felt her chest rise against his. Felt the air as it passed through her nose, and she knew her mouth was now closed.

It was hard to keep her eyes open. Even harder to…

A grip on her chin helped her along. A thumb on her lower lip pulled them apart. She felt something cold grace her tongue. An inhale. She felt the peaks of her breasts brush against his chest, and knew that he, too, was bare.

An ebb of shadows constructed his face, allowing her only a glimpse of here or there, keeping him from her in fragments. Pieces to form in her memory. He might have been handsome.

He might have been horrifying.

That earlier feeling filled her mouth. Heat. Wetness. Penetration. A strong intention parted her lips, shared with them life, urged for them to respond.

Her eyes closed as she let him kiss her. As she shared in the taste of all his _kisses_.

He pulled away and her head fell to the side, but not because he'd done so. Her chest rose and fell like the waves, the feeling of breath cold in her throat. He was kissing her neck now. Biting her there.

The voiceless echo resounded again. Wailing in pain. And she wondered...what it might sound like.

Her arms would not move. In this darkness, she wondered if they were even there. She felt his weight bearing down on her. Felt her legs being widened.

He was touching her. _Feeling_ her. That much she knew. Still, all she had was darkness. Nothingness. And a feeling. …a feeling?

Her head arched back, but not because she'd done so. Her neck straightened, and then curled again. Once. Twice. She was drifting on waves. On hard, cold, smooth waves that scraped against her back with every repetitive movement.

Another sound left her lips, but this time she heard it. It was soft. It was distant. It was...her.

Her head was turned by a grip on her jaw. She whimpered as he kissed her by force.

He was making a sound. No. _They_ were making a sound. And it was wet. And it was hungry. And it peaked with every wave.

She opened her eyes again, her stare sifting through blurs of blond and beige. She heard little noises now. They came to her as echoes, finding -in that boundless darkness- a voice that sounded so very much like her own.

Her eyes opened a little more, the density in the atmosphere slowly replaced by weightless sound. She heard him breathing in her ear. Heard him moaning between each thrust. She felt her back arching, and then she moaned louder too.

He was inside of her. She knew that. She felt him and yet, was only just now _feeling_ him. He stretched her. Filled her. Pushed himself deep until it touched the knot building in her stomach.

She felt her body burgeoning, become heated and sore. She felt him, slick and hard, moving so forcefully in and out.

She tried to move her arms. Her legs. To move against him. Away? No. No, she wanted to move closer. Or, at least...she thought she did.

Her body stretched and braced as her mouth dropped open. The wave turned to a flood. To a release. To a bloom of pressure which only grew in intensity.

She felt her hands gripping his arms. Felt the muscle and the movement working within them. One of his hands was knotted in her hair, the other pinning her hip. She felt that grip tighten. Become brutal. Felt the pinch of hair leaving her scalp and nails piercing her skin.

He buried his face in her neck and groaned, his body lurching and then going rigid. The sound of him filled her ear. Filled her blood and her bones. She felt hot again. Felt full. Felt the encroaching darkness swarm.

* * *

Sarah opened her eyes and sat up in her bed. Her heart was pounding. Pounding painfully. She looked around in a panic, trying to orient herself.

She was in her room. She was awake. She was alone.

Daylight poured in through the window, painting the boundaries of her room and all its bobbles with warm, happy tones. The sight of it brought relief. She sighed as she lowered her hand from her chest.

_It was a dream? Of course...it was only a dream_ , she told herself. It meant nothing. _Was_ nothing. Because dreams were nothing. Nothing at all.

She got out of bed and walked towards the door; a cold shower would shake her of that nightmare.

But the floor was cold underfoot. Was hard, and smooth. A feeling of dread swept through her as she stopped dead on the threshold. Something was wrong. Was impossible. Was hot and wet and...streaming down the inside of her leg.


	2. Night 2

**The Incubus**

* * *

Night 2:

* * *

Sarah opened her eyes. She knew she did. She blinked slowly, comfortably. Like a sigh. Like a weight had lifted off of her. Just barely. Just enough.

Her hands twitched against something cold and smooth —like silk. It was the floor. It sifted between her fingers.

She could hardly move. She tried. Her head turned just barely. Just enough.

The feeling of waves turned her in space, but nothing else could move. She was so tired. So tired and heavy and…

She was laying on her side. A gentle touch traced her shoulder.

She tried to move against it. Towards it? Her shoulder angled back just barely. Just enough.

The tips of two fingers fell to her ribs, down the curve of her waist and up the round of her hip. They let her know that she was bare.

She closed her eyes as the flutter of feathers graced her cheek. But…no. They were nails. They were sharp. They pulled the hair away from her face.

And now she was exposed. The cloak of her hair, as black and as dense as this nothingness, would not hide her from him. This shroud was meaningless. And she lamented, for she had nothing else to see.

That same gentle touch trailed through the hair on the back of her neck, then was replaced by a kiss.

There was pain. But...it was not hers. It belonged to the darkness. Lost as an echo with no sound. She felt it wail for her in the distance.

His hand held her by the arm. She turned forward, but only because he'd done so, and he held her in place as that peculiar trickle of touch moved down her back.

He was kissing her. He was being so gentle. She laid there motionless. And the echo, pulled farther and farther away from her, cried out in agony.

He released her arm to reach underneath, groping her breast as his mouth hovered a hair's breadth from her ear.

"You've come back," he whispered, heating her skin with his breath as his fingers pinched and pulled. She felt her nipple harden and her back bow towards the sensation just barely. Just enough. "Are you awake?"

The sound of his voice was low. A tremor. It spidered through her in a familiar wave.

His other arm curled under her shoulder and caught her in an embrace. A grip on her chin turned her sharply towards him. She saw the blue of his eyes. And in them, changing pools of black.

His gaze fell down her face. She watched his head angle to the side as his lips parted.

She felt her chest rise. Felt the shards of an ice cold breath fill her lungs. Was this…anticipation?

But there was no voice to ask that question. No sound. No thought. Nothing at all to stop her. She felt so empty inside. But she knew...she didn't have to be.

"Your mouth is open," she heard him say, and knew from the way his thumb brushed along the seam of her lips that it was true. The pad of his thumb grazed the tip of her tongue, pulled down on the flesh of her lip with the slightest pressure.

They were bathed in perfect darkness, yet she saw in severity the hunger that built in his eyes.

"Kiss me," he whispered, and she did.

Her eyes closed. Her lips pressed together against his, delicate flesh meeting with something that felt like tenderness. She felt her lips part, but not because he'd done so. She felt something move. Something hot, and wet. Her tongue? No. It was his. She tried to move against it. To reciprocate? Her tongue curled over his just barely. Just enough.

The splayed hand holding her jaw moved into her hair, and he leaned over her further. He rolled her nipple between his fingers, and swallowed every minor breath it elicited.

Her hands fisted into the nothingness. Buried into its folds. Clung to the silken cold. His hand moved down her side, around her rear. Her leg bent towards her stomach, but only because he'd done so.

Sparks of static coursed. It came from his hand, twisted up through her stomach, and fed into his mouth. A feeling so featherlight. A trace. A trail. A gentle _push_ inside of her.

A sound pooled between their mouths, caught in the ebb of heated breaths. She felt his fingers moving inside of her. Felt the wave turn to flood as weight bore down.

She was so tired. And heavy. Her mouth lost life when they parted, her head forcefully turned to press against something hard, and cold, and smooth.

His hand was on her hip, and yet she continued to rock. She blinked very slowly, falling into a sea of black silk. She was falling.

Falling?

She turned onto her stomach, but not because she'd done so. She felt his knees widen her own. Felt the force of his body against her back, pushing the air from her lungs. She felt a weight on the back of her neck. His forehead? No. …a bite.

Her arms would no longer move. She stared vacantly at them. Them? No. No, only one. The other was his, holding her down.

He was inside of her again. She remembered the feeling. She remembered the echo in the distance that sounded like her.

But it was so far away. The sounds coming from her mouth felt so far away.

His hand released her wrist, and the ripping of skin dissolved into a warm bloom. There was a kind of slickness to her back. She felt the ends of his hair clinging to her.

She stared at the fragments of her hand as it fisted in darkness. She was moving faster now. The waves of tempest turning violent.

But violent was a word she no longer had. Silken hands had taken it from her. Like so many others.

She tried to brace against the floor and meet each thrust, and at that angle felt the pressure peaking. Deep down, she enjoyed it. Just barely. Just enough.

Tremors moved hot and heavy in her ears. In her blood and her bones. His voice. His moans. His strain and restraint. They filled her. Just as _he_ filled her.

Those sounds turned sharp and high and desperate. But —no— that was her.

She buried her face into blackness. Held onto it tightly. He was kissing her again and...squeezing back?

Fingers draped in black silk sifted between her own. They held onto her like claws. Like shackles. She could not move. Did not try. Those hands were not his, because he did not need to hold her down.

The force. The echo. The wail. It clung to her. Beseeched her. She held onto it with all that she could.

White hot droplets trickled down her temple. The feeling there was wet, enflamed. He kept his forehead pressed to her as he kissed her cheek.

"Let go," he commanded, the tremor hoarse and expectant. She flinched in reaction to it, yet his touch remained gentle. And from that, she knew he was not talking to _her_. She felt her hands curl in on the silk. Felt it unravel and fall limp in response. A voice that could not be hers pleaded for the embrace not to let go. To stay with her. And yet, it was her own fingers that twitched. Just barely. Just enough.

He spread her knees farther apart and used his weight to hold her down, the thrusts rocking her body coming harder and deeper. She felt silken folds fall over her legs. Blanketing her. Reaching for her.

But it didn't matter. Because it was nothing. _This_ was nothing.

Her head cast back and was caught by the throat, his hand encasing around it in a vice. It held her suspended there. Held her breathless. The air had fled her lungs. She felt the sting of a bite as the echo cried out.

But in that moment, she no longer lamented, for she was no longer empty. She was filled with a heat, and a flood, and by him. She heard him groan loudly. Heard it reverberate through his teeth into her flesh. Into her blood and her bones. He went rigid, just like before. She felt so hot just like before.

But the echo was gone. It would not cry. The darkness was cold. And, this time, it would not swarm to her. It refused.

* * *

Sarah awoke to a feeling of suffocation. Like a vacuum. Like her breath had been taken.

She coughed and sat up. She was in her bed. She was in her room. She was alone.

She felt along her neck and her body like something had crawled there, then leapt from her bed. That dream. That nightmare. Why?

She tried to think, but her thoughts were blurred. She couldn't remember. Everything was fragmented. Cut in pieces by a frightening darkness. All she had was this feeling. An inexplicable, impossible feeling.

She walked over to her mirror and stared. There was something wrong. Something bad. She was so tired. And heavy. She pulled at the neck of her shirt and—

And the feeling of feathers and nails sent tingles as sharp as knives through every nerve in her skin.

She unbuttoned her shirt. Removed it and everything else entirely. She stood there and stared. Stood there in panic, and cowered and counted—

The marks.

The bruises.

The bites.

They were on her neck. On her breasts. On her back and her thighs. She was covered in them. Covered and...afraid.


	3. Night 3

**The Incubus**

* * *

Night 3:

* * *

Sarah opened her eyes and blinked. She'd been sleeping. Or, at least...she thought she'd been.

The room was dark. The walls cast in shadow and out of sight.

But, was it a room?

Yes. It was…

She shifted her body against the floor. Silk as black as night enveloped her. Held her. She sighed as she sank into it.

The feeling against her cheek was soft, and smooth, and warm.

She rolled to the other side, but it was all she could manage. She was still so tired. The silk covering her legs and her arms felt so heavy. Like it was holding her down.

The room continued to roll even after she'd ceased. Like it was drifting. Like it'd fallen behind.

She closed her eyes and tried to sleep. It felt so warm here. Comforting. Nightmares had kept her tossing. Memories? But here there was nothing. It _was_ nothing.

Vision faded in and out. A brightness lost behind her eyes. Fragments of color and light. A smile. A sound. A trill? But it was too bright. Too loud. It kept her from sleeping.

She pushed them all away. Those things did not belong here.

A noise drifted from her lips. A murmur. A plea. She heard it with total clarity, but the feeling...was gone.

Gone?

Her body shifted once more, her legs drawing up towards her chest. A hand slid between her thighs, and she knew she was bare.

She laid there in silence. Basked in darkness. It felt peaceful there. Patient. She was entirely alone. Or, at least...she thought she was.

A sound, featherlight, fluttered off her lips. It was a whimper. It was a voice. _Her_ voice. It peaked and then faded. There was no echo. It had abandoned her there.

The fingers that pressed moved in a circle, winding the knot as it coiled in her stomach. Her body moved. Like waves. Like a stirring of the sea. It pulled her along. Pulled her down. A weight built in her chest, forcing the air from her lungs. Her knees squeezed tightly together, bracing the invader as darkness uncurled, as darkness spread, as a feeling of utter emptiness stole what was hers.

Deep down, she lamented, for it would never be enough. This patience. This peace. It meant nothing, for the touch was her own.

Was this...pain?

But there was no voice to ask that question. No sound. No thought. Nothing at all to save her. She just felt so empty. And she pleaded.

Pleaded?

A grip on her wrist ceased her movements and pulled her hands away. She turned her head to look at him, and felt relieved that there was something left to see.

His eyes were as blue as ice. Cast in shards. Refractions. She saw his face, pale and familiar. The shadows that once pulled him apart lost vigor. Now they clung to the contours. Painted him in reliefs, the lines of his cheek, his jaw, his brow —all were rendered sharp and jagged and smooth. It was like he'd been carved from darkness. Like he was a thing made just for her.

What?

"Are you lonely?" he asked. Sarah stared in silence. He was laying on his side. Laying behind her. His torso was bare. She could see it. He pulled back her hand close to his mouth, then inhaled as he kissed the back of her fingers. "Are you awake?"

She could not answer. She tried. With each passing second, she tried to break free. To speak. To scream. Or, at least...she thought she did.

He leaned over her and held her lightly by the hand. His hair fell over her shoulder, over her breasts, touched her bare nipples which peaked in reaction.

She watched his eyes move down her face and up again, an alien highlight on his pupils reflecting something voiceless and writhing in the distance behind her.

And she knew that _thing_ was watching them. That _thing_ was in agony. But it did not matter. For in this darkness, the echo had gone, for they were the only things to see.

"Is your mouth open?" he asked.

She furrowed her brow. She didn't know. Couldn't know. She licked her lips and found the answer was no. Her mouth then opened, but not because he'd done so.

He grinned, and with it came a feeling that creeped.

The tips of fingers, featherlight, moved in swirls down her thigh. She waited for him to kiss her. She remembered he would. She remembered how it felt.

A feeling of hunger, wet and hot, pooled under her tongue. He kept himself a hair's breadth from her, Cheshire teeth glinting the distant visage of that same quiet agony.

What did it want? she wondered. But the thought was not hers.

"Do you want me to kiss you?" he asked.

Her body rocked. The feeling of his hand, of his touch pushing inside of her, was more than this darkness could provide. Was better than _patience_ and _comfort_. For it filled her. Made her warm. Made her throb.

A feeling of hunger, wet and hot, bloomed between her thighs. He was moving faster now. Harder. And the sound… there was now a sound.

She opened her mouth more. Shaped it into a word she no longer knew. A single syllable escaped on her breath, but what it might have spelled, she couldn't know.

He tilted his head, parted his lips. She felt his breath flood her mouth, and the brushing of delicate skin. She waited for the inevitable, but it never came.

He pulled back from her ever so slightly, and grinned.

"Say my name," he whispered. The sound was low. Was a tremor. It spidered through the cracks in her lips into her blood and her bones. She tried to lean towards him, but couldn't manage.

Her mouth opened and closed in an aching fashion. The sounds that came out of it were formless, aimless. She tried to speak. Tried so hard. She knew him. She knew his name. It was…

It was lost in darkness. Pulled back by those hands once draped in black silk.

"I c-can't," she said, her brow turning down as beads of tears gathered on her lashes. Those words hurt. The sound hurt her. But she did not know. She couldn't know. _That_ word was also meaningless.

She felt his thumb at the corner of her eye. Felt her vision blur as he took away her tears. Then that thumb, wet and hot, trailed down to her mouth.

"Yes you can," he said softly. The pad of his finger tugged on her lip, showed him her teeth. She was clenching them tightly. He leaned in again but turned as anticipation peaked. His hand had moved into her hair. Was gripping her tightly by the scalp. He spoke into her ear as he turned her head away. "I won't kiss you again until you say it."

He pulled away, and her head turned towards the floor. She felt her body moving. Felt his hands on her, turning, churning. The room twisted in waves. She could not keep up with it.

"On your knees," she heard him say.

She felt like she was falling. She braced her hands against the silk, afraid it might consume her.

Afraid?

Her arms buckled at the elbows, her body rocking to an ebb that was not there. It felt so heavy. It was going to take her away.

She felt his hands holding her thighs, pushing her knees forward and apart.

"I...I can't," she said once more. The words came easier this time. Felt more like her own. She'd wondered what it would sound like. Wondered what it was to be given a voice.

She felt him steady her with an arm wrapped around her waist. He kneeled over her. Engulfed her with his body. She saw his hair fall alongside her own. Saw his free hand press into the darkness and splay over hers.

" _Try_ ," he commanded.

That word was hot. Was piercing. It cut into her and bloomed. But —no— those were his teeth. That was his bite. And that warmth...was blood.

White hot trickles moved in a pattern down her spine. He was kissing her. He was holding her. His hands, on her rear, gripped and spread, and bruised.

She stared straight ahead. Downward. Gazing with wide eyes into the nothingness that would no longer gaze back.

His hands were holding her taught, but _she_ was the one to hold herself steady.

Another fluttering sound broke free of her lips. It escaped into the void. Into nothing. It was soft. A whimper. It faded too quickly.

Then there was silence. Then there was pressure. Then there was a filling, spreading heat.

She wondered what it all meant...and then it came again.

And again.

And again.

Featherlight, wayward sounds layered one after another, drifting and scattering like stars with no light. Stars to be felt and not seen, she thought. Because there was nothing _to see_. The darkness hid them from her.

She felt the tide turning. Felt the silk shifting. She felt her hands pressing into the void as she braced against every single thrust.

He was inside of her now. She knew that. She remembered the feeling. She remembered the echo in the distance that sounded like her.

But the echo was gone. Because it was nothing. Because it was her.

A grip on her hips pulled her back, pushed her forward, kept her raised as he filled her to the hilt. She heard the sound of his breath. Labored. Rough. It mirrored his touch.

Because the flesh underhand had turned white. Because the creases of nails had turned red. A feeling of feathers tickled her skin. Other words she might have used were now hidden in the clutches of those black silken hands.

His harsh breaths turned to moans. Turned to a humid heat as he reared over and pressed his face into her hair.

One of his hands pushed down on the back of her neck, pressing her cheek against something warm, and soft, and smooth.

"Speak, my darling," he commanded, or begged, or lamented. Sarah no longer knew. She couldn't. There were no thoughts. Only feeling. And she felt…

He groaned against her ear, turned his head down as his brow deeply furrowed. He held her tightly by the nape. Held her knees wide. He was sinking so deep. Stretching. Filling. This darkness could not contend. It had nothing to offer her. Nothing.

The sound of her moans were quick and in time. Were high and breathless. Were echoes of themselves. They resounded like a melody in his ear. In his blood and his bones. It spurred a heat. A desire. He moaned as he gave in.

Her body rocked in a gentling motion. Forward and back. Slowly. To nothing. She felt a pressure between her thighs. Something sore. Familiar. It was hot, and wet, and dripping down her legs.

He pulled out of her, and the feeling of loss that accompanied it was inexplicable. He turned her onto her back. Turned the world with her.

She stared straight ahead. Upward. At him. She saw his eyes, so lovely and blurred. She saw the sweat in his brow. Felt it drop to her own like molten pin pricks. The shadows on his face gave way a little more, yet the highlight once wailing on his eye was there no longer. It had been swallowed like the stars. Like the echo. Like that color behind her eyes, and that brightness, and that smile.

Those silken hands had taken too much. They could no longer hold her down.

She reached up to caress his face. His cheek was warm. Was soft and smooth. Not sharp like his visage. Not harsh like those shadows preferred.

She tugged with the slightest pressure, and he lowered to her easily. Her eyes wilted. She blinked slowly. She was so tired.

A grip on his chin tilted him towards her.

"Kiss me," she commanded, and he did.

* * *

Sarah awoke to a jolt. Like she was falling. Like she was frightened. Her elbow had slipped from the polished tabletop it balanced on, her jaw resting on a rigid palm no longer.

She blinked furiously and looked around. She was in a classroom. At her desk. Surrounded by classmates. Fluorescent light and the scrape of chalk filled the room. The sight and the sound brought her relief.

She swallowed and sat back in her chair, forcing herself to focus on the scribbles ahead.

But she couldn't. It was too hard. She was so tired. And heavy. Her eyes felt like weights in their sockets.

"Whoa. You alright?"

Sarah turned and locked eyes with her friend. Or, at least...she thought she was.

Her mouth opened, but her lips were dry. They cracked when she tried to speak.

"Hey...you don't look so good. You feeling okay?"

Her name was Katie, and she was kind. Sarah felt a flood building in her chest that very nearly reached her eyes—

"Been stayin up too late, have ya?"

Sarah and Katie turned. It was another friend who'd spoken. This one...was not so kind.

"I...I…"

She tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. She couldn't remember. She couldn't remember how she'd gotten there. Couldn't remember the drive. Or breakfast. Or dressing herself. It was...like a dream. A memory? Like it wasn't real.

All she could fathom was darkness. There was something there. Something bad.

Her lip quivered as a trickle of blood seeped through the cracks.

"Oh my god. What is that?"

Her name was Lacey, and she smiled. She laughed. She hushed herself so the teacher wouldn't notice.

"Is that a cold sore? Oh my god, what have you been doing? You got herpes?"

Katie drew back, but it was Sarah who panicked. Her eyes widened. Vision faded in and out. The brightness in front of her eyes became lost. Became fragments. Pieces of color and light and a smile. The trill of the lights, the scratch of the chalk, it was too loud. The paired looks of comfort and patience kept her from breathing.

"W-what?" she said, and the sound was a cry. Her teeth chattered. Her heart pounded. She felt so afraid. But she...she couldn't remember. These faces were no longer familiar. "O-of course not. Where the h-hell would I even get herpes?"

"Oh, I don't know. From whatever dude you've been making out with?"

The pool welling in her chest turned to stone.

"What?" And that stone sank. "What are you talking about? I ha-haven't done anything."

Panic raised her voice, but it was not something to be heard. Her friend stared at her with a grin, then reached out to touch her—

"Oh yeah? Then what's with all the hickeys, hm? You been holding out on us, Williams?"

A touch like needles pierced her skin. A fury of pain so blinding it retched deep into her blood and her bones. She slapped away the hand from her neck and lurched to her feet, sending a cascade of books plummeting to the floor.

The scratches stopped. The trill screamed. All eyes turned to stare at her. And she felt exposed. Bare. The only thing to be seen.

"Just—just shut the hell up, will you?" she cried out, her voice breaking on every word. "You don't know what you're talking about. So just...leave me alone!"

The sound of her teacher calling her name was distant and muffled. An echo. She turned on a dime and stormed away. Away from the room. And the light. And the colors and the smiles. It was all so painful. She just wanted to sleep. She wanted…

She stood in front of a bathroom mirror. She stared straight ahead. At her own reflection. Half circles of grey weighted her eyes, and tears streamed down her cheeks. They were hot, and wet, and sharp. She couldn't remember how she'd gotten there. The edges of her vision were blurred. Were gone. This light was like a haze. Like a shroud. It turned everything white. Turned it all into nothing.

The nibbling of her lip reminded her that it was wounded. That it was sore and bloodied. She turned her head and pulled down the neck of her shirt, and whimpered at what she saw.

The marks were still there.

And so were the bites.

And the bruises.

Now there were more. Now they were worse.

She felt them. With every waking moment, she felt them. All she wanted was to sleep. To escape these marks and words _pain_ and _fear_. To find a place where they had no meaning. Where they did not belong.

Where they would never be known.

A vision of darkness came back to her. And it was warm, and soft, and smooth. It washed over her like silk. Pulled at the tips of her fingers like the tide.

Yes...that was the place she longed to be. A place that would cradle her, would care for her and soothe her. The place where _he_ was waiting.

She reached out and touched the reflection of her mouth on the mirror. The feeling was cold. Too cold.

An echo with no voice drifted in her ear, featherlight and tender, and from it she knew how to save herself.

All she had to do...was wake up from this nightmare.


	4. Night 4

**The Incubus**

* * *

Night 4:

* * *

Sarah opened her eyes and shivered. The air in her lungs was cold. Like shards of ice. It splintered with each breath.

She drew up the blanket to escape it. To hide herself in darkness. The air was warm there. Comforting. Black silken sheets covered her body.

She shifted. Rolled. But the room was slow to follow. Walls draped in black were darkest in their corners. She could see it. See the creases forming there.

Stars without light hovered in the distance. They surrounded her. Watched her. Let her know that, despite the walls, and the blanket, and the faint, fading light, she was the only thing _worth_ seeing.

Those quiet flames glowed with no luminance. Like they were mere paintings on the richest velveteen. They were just another part of the backdrop, she told herself. Part of the changing pool of black.

She sat up and looked around. In the utter darkness, she saw her hands. Her arms. Her torso. They came forth from the depths. The silken sheet had fallen away from her, and from that she knew she was bare.

The tips of her fingers patted her lips, but she didn't know why. The skin there was warm, and soft, and smooth. They parted open of their own accord.

She blinked slowly as quietude crept. She must have fallen asleep. She wasn't feeling quite so tired anymore.

Flashes of white, of trills and scratches, sped behind her eyes. She scowled as she pushed them away. The black concealing her legs was heavy. Was holding her down. She removed it from her.

She turned to the side and met his gaze. So blue. So livid. Refracting like shards. It pulled the breath from her lungs —it'd never belonged there to begin with.

Pale rings rimmed changing black pools. And in them she saw depths of silk, shadowed corners, and a painting of stars with no light. An alien glimmer reflected there. Quiet and exposed. It was the only thing worth seeing.

"Are you awake?" he asked.

Her eyes lowered but there was no question to answer. No thought. Nothing at all to redeem her. She stared at her hands rested on silken sheets. At the folds like fingers that sifted between her own. They were lifeless and silent, just as she.

He leaned in and she braced, her eyes falling to slivers as her mouth opened more. He paused just as feeling sparked. The touching of delicate skin.

"Will you kiss me?" she asked, and the voice was her own. She was staring at his mouth. Feeling the heat of his breath push away the cold.

"I will," he answered, then hovered to the side. She felt him by her ear. Felt the tingle, featherlight, that he left there. "Will you say my name?"

That question stayed in her ear as he pulled away. Stayed in her blood and her bones. He had a soft smile on his face. She could do nothing but frown.

"I…can't," she said, scowling in frustration. He saw her hands tightened on the black silken sheets, and then pulled the two apart.

"You can," he replied with a kiss to the backs of her fingers.

"It...it's too hard. It hurts."

She grimaced and the sound was not her own. She recoiled from it. Sprang open her eyes and looked straight at him.

She felt the caress of his thumb on her cheek. It was gentle. Tender. Those words had become precious to her. She closed her eyes in a look of—

"Shh…" he whispered, brushing his fingers through her hair. The sound was like scratches. Like an echo. It was too loud. The light flashing behind her eyes was too bright. But...no. Go away—

There was no brightness here. It was not needed. Nor were the words and sounds she could no longer remember…

His featherlight touch reached her shoulder as she settled and opened her eyes.

"Have you been dreaming?" he asked. Sarah glanced downward.

"I don't know."

"Are you dreaming now?"

"I...don't know."

Folds of silk swirled like a rippled pane of water. It caught a highlight. Just like his eye. But...there was no light here. Light was not needed.

A grip on her chin turned her to face him.

"Does it still hurt?"

Sarah paused. She stared. That question...it made no sense to her. That word...she did not know it.

"Does it...what? What is that?"

She couldn't think. There was nothing there. Because the word was nothing. A bobble held by black silken hands. It no longer belonged to her.

He smiled as his touch fell from her chin.

"It's nothing, my darling. Nothing you need ever fret over...ever again."

His voice was so soft. It soothed her. She felt it like the smallest wave, the inching tide.

She felt the room turning, but only because he'd done so.

He took her hand in his and guided it, pulling her over himself. She stared straight ahead. Downward. At him. And saw spirals of her hair, black as night, coil against him.

They cut him in pieces. Like shadows. Like fragments only her memories could put back together. Dreams?

Their fingers entwined against black silken sheets. She felt their pressure holding her up, not down.

He stared at her in silence. The air between their bodies felt cold. But...he was warm. And soft. And smooth.

She lowered her torso to rest against him, then kissed him lightly on the lips.

His eyes closed. His lips parted —but only because she'd done so. He felt something moving. Her tongue? No. _Theirs_. He squeezed her hands more tightly in restraint.

She pulled away just barely, just enough, and breathed hot air across his skin. Her nose grazed along his cheek, the touch featherlight and delicate. She kissed him there. And on his jaw. And the crest of his ear. White hot drops like pinpricks moved down the column of his neck.

Her hands pulled out of his and dragged up his arms. The muscle there was hard. Familiar. She remembered the feeling of them flexing while he moved inside of her.

Shrouds of dreams drifted over her. Memories? They came as fractures. Broken. Together they filled the empty. Filled the emptiness...inside of her.

She blinked slowly at the well of his throat. The room was starting to turn. A weight on her eyelids...pulling them down. She felt so tired. And heavy. They were blanketed in black silken sheets.

"Not yet," she heard him say. A grip on the back of the neck turned her to him, her mouth already open. She relaxed at the feeling of a kiss. So slow. And warm. And tender. She molded herself to it. To him. Their bodies pressed without a shred of shadow between them. He pulled away from her just barely, hot breath flooding her mouth as he said, "You haven't said my name."

She felt the flutter of their eyelashes. Felt that touch so light trailing down her spine. The tips of two fingers. The creases in her skin turned red in their wake.

A grip on her hips positioned her in place, her knees spreading wide as they sank into silk. His mouth on her throat was like a cradling fire. Other words she might have used were no longer there.

She felt a _kiss_ on her shoulder. Felt that _meager_ touch pushing inside. The tips of two fingers moved in circles, then inward like the ebbing of waves.

She clung to him as blossoms bloomed red. On her shoulder. On her chest. On her neck behind her ear.

A feeling of hunger, wet and hot, built between her legs. It mirrored the taste on his tongue.

She felt her hips lowering, with no idea who'd done so. She felt him enter her. Felt him spread and fill and sink. A grip on her rear kept them tightly together. Her hands knotted in his hair in a plea.

A plea?

She caged him with her arms, her touch begging. He turned to look at her, their lips meeting without chance in that deathly small space.

He tasted like hunger. Like red blooms that turned hot in her mouth.

He pulled out of her, then moved slowly back in. She held herself in place. His hands on her back were _tender_.

The feeling was _featherlight_. Not nearly enough to reach her.

She lowered her hips and tensed in a grimace, the sound that fed into his mouth high and breathless. Her hands —her claws— they dug into his scalp. She wanted to feel closer. To feel full. _Patience_ had no value. _Comfort_ was meek. She would drown herself to cast away this godforsaken darkness.

A grip on her hips gentled her movements, turning them and rocking them with the tide.

"Like this," he whispered, guiding her to a rhythm. She uncurled her hands and pulled them away, wondering at the sight of _blooms_ left on her finger tips. She pulled them down his chest, the trails turning red in their wake.

The room turned in a circular fashion, rising and falling in time. The feeling of his hands in her hair let her know that the movement was her own.

She moaned into his mouth. Held him against the black. He was growing harder inside of her. She remembered the feeling. Red hot blossoms sprouted along her torso, pulling her ever downward by the wet streaks of vines.

Entwined she was —knotted by wide splayed fingers and folds of black silk. The feeling burgeoned deep within, and she rejoiced —for it was her own. The darkness held no sway. It held too many other worthless things. The echo was long forgotten, for it had never been heard at all.

She lamented no more, because the word was now unknown.

She held him _tenderly_ by the face as that feeling peaked. As it turned to flood, to heat, and smeared itself shamelessly down her thighs.

She panted and gasped, and shivered in the aftermath. He was embracing her. Holding on tightly with one hand at the back of her neck.

Her eyelids turned to lead as she stared at him, as she searched the shadows of his face for the pieces they'd taken. She couldn't see. Vision faded. A sudden flash of white blinded her. And the smiles. And the colors. And the feelings with no names.

They frightened her.

No. No, she did not want to go back. That place calling to her was a thing of agony. Of pain. Of all the words she no longer had and the things she could no longer remember. She did not want to remember. To dream?

She was terrified to sleep. Terrified to wake up in that godforsaken nightmare—

Droplets like liquid fire fell onto his cheek. He stared straight ahead. Upward. At her. Tears were pouring from her eyes. He wiped them away, for they had no place here.

"What is my name?" he asked her, so quietly, so lovingly.

She opened her eyes, and her vision cleared. The brightness faded. Like it'd never been.

" _Jareth_ ," she whispered, and the darkness fled.

* * *

Sarah awoke to the sound of a squeal —worn out beaks on the car she was traveling in. Her eyes opened slowly, achingly, and could barely stay open. She was so tired. And heavy.

"Are you sure you're alright?" a voice asked. Her step mother? She peered over, but the white at the edge of her vision was too bright. All she saw was a blur. "You look like you might be coming down with something. Tell the nurse if you feel sick. I'll come pick you up, okay?"

She blinked slowly one more time. That sound was an echo with no voice. She couldn't feel it.

"Okay," she said, then looked away.

"Remember to put more of that ointment on that cold sore, too. It looks like it might be getting worse."

"I will."

The door slammed shut and was then forgotten. The car, her step mother, the parking lot she crossed —they all fell away. Fell to white. She wasn't there anymore.

Sounds of trills and scratches, laughter and whispers followed after her. They crept. They clawed. They filled her ears. Her blood and her bones.

She wanted to scream, but couldn't. She had no voice. No thought. Nothing at all to expose her. She was all alone in this place. In this empty, incessant brightness.

She opened her eyes and saw herself, and the image was cold, hard, and smooth. A mirror. In the locker room?

She was standing all alone. Staring vacantly into the glimmer that died and now rotted on her eye. What was she doing? How did she get here? She didn't know. But it didn't matter.

Because these were mere fragments. Vignettes. Dreams. They would all fade.

She blinked slowly as she stared. The sore on her lip had festered. Become infected. The skin had turned to an ugly red bloom, painful and bloodied.

The cracks in the skin reminded her of rose petals. That...was a more pleasant image.

"Five minutes, ladies!"

That was her teacher. Or, at least...she thought it was. And from that, she knew she was meant to change.

She reached for the hem of her shirt, but paused. She'd worn long sleeves and jeans today. During a week that had consistently been 85 and sunny. More than one person had noticed…

"Sarah?"

She turned back with a sharp movement, her gaze wide yet unseeing. It was her friend. Katie? She was staring at her, looking quite worried. Or, at least...she thought she did.

"Are you...okay?" she asked. Sarah did not respond. "It's just...you really freaked us out yesterday. Lacey is mad, but...is something going on?"

She stared unblinking as the sound processed. As the question pulled itself apart in her mind. She had no answer. She had...nothing.

She turned away and looked back at the mirror. Katie's gaze widened as the hair fell away from her neck—

"Oh my God. Sarah, what is that?!" she asked and lurched forward. Sarah failed to see it. She couldn't react. But it was the feeling of fingers like claws tearing into her that compelled her back from the light.

Katie had pulled at the neck of her shirt, rather forcefully, so it stretched over her shoulder. Sarah flailed and pushed the girl away, then watched as her eyes widened in horror.

"Is that...a burn? What the fuck? Jesus Christ, did someone do that to you?!"

She took a step forward with outstretched hands, but now Sarah could see. She pulled her shirt back into place and backed away into a locker.

"It's nothing. Just leave it alone, alright? Stop screaming. My head hurts...it's too loud."

"Nothing? Are you serious? You're the one who should be screaming!" Katie shouted and reached out to pull at the bottom of her shirt. The action caught her off guard, a split second passed before she could stop it. "Are there more?! Let me see—"

An open wound showed itself on her hip. Another by her navel. Sarah cried out and shoved the girl away again.

"Don't touch me!" she screamed, molten tears building on her eyes. Her chest heaved. Her heart pounded. She felt so afraid.

Katie lowered her arm as dispassion masked her concern.

"Sarah...you're scaring me. Let me help you."

"There's nothing to help," she cried out, choking on the words as they caught like rocks in her throat. "It's fine. It's nothing. So just...back off—" she tried to storm away, to hold onto herself in the process. Katie reached out for her shoulder as she passed.

The mere tips of her fingers felt like hot iron prods.

"I said leave me alone!" Sarah shouted, recoiling and flinching and throwing up her arms. She practically ran out of the room. Ran into the white. Into the next dream.

She opened her eyes and stared at her name on a wall. Scratched in with a wretched smiley face. She was in a bathroom stall. At school? She didn't know. Her head rolled to the side as a deep, throbbing pain reminded her of the word.

She winced as she pulled up her shirt. The bruises were still there. Now they were black. And the bites had split open. Now they bled. The scratches had swelled. Now they itched. The sore on her lip had become putrid. No amount of ointment or peroxide would help.

Her body ached with the smallest movement. Every waking moment spelled misery. That was another word she did not need. Another word she wanted to unlearn.

Her eyelids felt so heavy. She was just so tired.

So cold and...empty.


	5. Night 5

**The Incubus**

* * *

Night 5:

* * *

Sarah opened her eyes to the kiss of a breeze on her cheek. The air was warm. It felt good paired with the cool caress of black silken sheets.

She shifted and leaned up on an elbow, which sank into the down of the mattress.

Sheer black curtains kept her hidden. They were darkest in their corners. There. Where they covered the posts. A soft diffusion of light sparkled between the seams.

She sat up a little more, and the sheet of fine silk tumbled away. She could see her hands. Her arms. Her torso. An alien highlight trailed along her contour. It let her know that she was no longer bare. A gown of ebony held the same sheen as the sheets. It was like they were one.

Sconces with dim light glowed beyond the curtains. Their quiet candle flames gave off a warm luminance. Through the shroud, it looked as if they hovered. Keeping a watchful eye against any who would disturb her.

Twilight poured in through the window, painting the boundaries of her room and all its bobbles with warm, happy tones. The sight of it brought relief. She sighed as she dragged a hand down her face and pushed back her hair. Her eyes were a little heavy, but she wasn't tired. She'd finally been able to sleep. Finally…

She faced the foot of the bed. The curtains there had been drawn back, revealing to her the full rendering of the room and the man standing there, patiently staring down at her.

His eyes were so blue. Like the deepest sea. He was dressed in layered finery. Jewels, scattered along his coat, glittered like stars. They caught the light and refracted it, casting shards into the depths of rich velveteen.

He tilted his head to the side and regarded her quite candidly.

"Are you awake?"

Sarah's brow furrowed. She stared at him in a look of confusion, then sat fully upright on the bed.

"Yes," she said, as if the answer was obvious. She smoothed out her hair and shifted her legs, bare toes peeking out from the black. Her eyes quietly searched the room, but she had no idea what they were looking for.

Something felt...off. Like something was missing. Something that ought to be...important.

He tilted his head to the other side as he regarded her.

"Are you ready?"

Sarah paused. She'd been musing, but about what, she didn't know. When she did not answer, he took a step forward and knelt on the bench in front of the bed. His head lowered and turned up, trying to catch her contemplative gaze as it burrowed into the sheets.

"The others are waiting. Shall we greet them together?"

A little tick signaled her attention. She peered up from the mattress and stared into his eyes. That's right...they were all waiting...for her.

A nibble on her lip let her know that it was no longer wounded. Soft and delicate skin pinched between her teeth. She drew her brow tightly when she realized what it was she'd been missing.

The tips of two fingers patted her lips, but there was nothing there. A glance forward reflected her own image in a vanity mirror. Her bare shoulders. Her neck. Her chest. All were pale and flawless.

"They're gone," she murmured. He raised a brow.

"What are gone?"

"The marks," she said and looked down at him. He was staring straight ahead. Upward. At her. His expression was completely transparent as he asked,

"What marks?"

Sarah felt her brow tightening once more. That question did not make any sense to her. She looked up at the mirror one more time. There was not a single blemish on her body. Marks? What was he talking about?

"There's no more—" she heard herself say, but the sentence would not finish. That word. Whatever it was. Whatever she'd been about to say. It stopped dead on her tongue. She felt it rolling like rocks in her mouth.

"No more _what_?" he repeated. Sarah looked down at him, her expression perturbed.

"I...don't know," was all she could say. The thought was gone. That _word_ taken. Whatever it was, it was meaningless. Unneeded.

She shifted again and adjusted her legs. The movement exposed parts of her legs. A knee. A calf. They, too, were flawless. Without ache. Without—

"It doesn't—"

Again she choked. Viscerally. Her head lurched forward a bit as she struggled to pass the sound, but it refused. She couldn't say it. Couldn't think it.

"Doesn't _what_?"

Sarah sat back as a feeling of anxiety welled in her stomach. It rippled like black pools. Like something cold, and hard, and bright, and loud.

"The words...are gone. I'm not...I'm not...I don't know the words—"

Something that sounded like turmoil rose in her voice, but the sound was not her own. She did not recognize it. It— It—

"Shh…." he whispered, reaching out and touching her face. Her lips were pouting. Her brow scowling. He brought his face close to hers as his thumbs smoothed away the look from her temples.

"You don't know because you gave those words away, remember?" he asked. Sarah settled down and opened her eyes. "They have no business in this place. You saw to that."

He spoke to her calmly. His hold on her featherlight and tender. It was everything she remembered.

Everything...she...remembered?

"My darling, You need not fret," he went on. "They were no good to you, so I've forbidden their presence before you. Such ugliness, you need never know. Smile, for I've given you _new_ words to replace them. Ones that _you_ asked for."

The pad of his thumb tugged on her lip. Just barely. Just enough. It pulled free of her teeth. Her breathing quieted as she listened.

"Do you remember their names?" he asked. "Call them _Peace_. _Pleasure_. _Joy_. _Warmth_. You do not need anything else. And anything that you _want_ , I shall give you."

She blinked at him quickly as a heat built in her eyes. He was looking at her so lovingly. She knew that look. She remembered the feeling. But, she didn't understand—

"Why?" she asked. Why were his words so _warm_? And _soft_? And _smooth_? Why did those alone fill her? Make her _feel_. Make her…

Make her?

He smiled very softly as a haze filled his eyes. Then, while she was distracted, leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers.

"Because you said my name, remember?" he said, the words passing as a secret on the breath between their lips. "Because you let me kiss you and...you said my name."

Her eyes widened as he pulled away.

_Your name_ … a voice echoed. One that sounded like her own. A trail of soft kisses moved across her cheek. Down her neck. Blooming in the shadows beneath her hair.

"Jareth…?" she breathed.

"Yes?"

"Am I...dreaming?"

He paused and pulled away. There was worry on her face. A word she should have forgotten.

"My love," he said, so sweetly, and cupped her cheek. "—these gifts are without limit. Remember our promise. You need never dream again."

He released her face and stood, taking a step back from the bed as she stared downward in confusion. She couldn't remember. Did not want to remember.

Dreams were dangerous things. Filled with trills, and smiles, and scratches. They held you down. Held you back. Stole your voice, and your breath, and your body…

No. He was right. A _dream_ was not something she needed. Knowing them would not matter. It was nothing, after all. Nothing.

A look of calm eased her features, and from that he knew that she remembered. A promise was fulfilled, and, by doing so, had filled her.

He stared at her intently as she regained herself, then offered out his hand.

"Are you ready?" he repeated.

Sarah looked up at him. Saw the details of his face rendered for her in perfect clarity. There were no more shadows to bar her. But no brightness, either. That was the beauty of this place. It was caught in-between. A glow. A haze.

Like a painting upon the richest velveteen, it was —and would always be— one ephemeral, eternal moment of _bliss_.

"Yes," she said, then reached out and took his hand.

* * *

Katie stared at her shoes as she waited. The office was quiet. It was early in the morning. Too early —not even the secretaries had arrived. She glanced up at the sound of the door opening.

"Oh. Katie? Good morning."

It was her guidance counselor, Mr. Parrow. The man she'd been waiting to see.

"Good morning."

He pulled his keys from his pocket and crossed the room to his own office door. Katie stood and followed.

"You're here awful early. Is there something you needed?"

She pinched her fingers nervously as she looked to the side. She'd been determined to do this since yesterday, but now her nerves were catching up with her

"Yes. I um...I was actually wondering if I could speak with you for a minute? It's... important."

Mr. Parrow stopped with his key still in the knob, staring back over his shoulder and just now noticing the troubled look on his student's face. His expression fell to something more serious as he ushered her inside.

"Of course. Come on in."

She sat in the padded seat in front of his desk, folding her hands and watching him anxiously as he set down his coffee mug and made himself comfortable. Every second that passed fed a rock that was forming in her throat. She couldn't believe she was really doing this…

"You seem upset. Tell me what's bothering you."

Katie licked her lips as she averted her eyes.

"Well...it's not actually about me," she said, then looked down to her lap. The tips of her fingers were turning red from all the fretting. "It's about Sarah."

"Sarah?" he repeated.

Katie glanced up impulsively.

"Sarah Williams. Sorry."

Their eyes locked in a way she did not register. Mr. Parrow may have frowned, but Katie was too anxious to notice.

"I'm really worried about her," she went on, tapping her foot impatiently. "She's been...acting very strange the last few days. She's been very upset and...Friday I saw these really scary marks on her. They looked like burns or cuts or something. I don't know. I tried to call her over the weekend, but she never answered. I just...I think someone might be hurting her." A little waver peaked in her voice, and she gave in to lock eyes with him again. His returning expression was steeled. Katie ignored it. "I don't know who else to tell. If it's her parents who are doing it, or someone else...I...I don't know. I'm sorry."

She was thoroughly flustered by the end, sitting on the edge of her seat with a desperate highlight on her eye. She locked her jaw and waited for his response. He was being unusually quiet. That wasn't like him.

A moment of silence passed before Mr. Parrow responded. He sighed through his nose, his brow turning down in a look of great sadness.

"Katie...Principle Hawkins is going to make an announcement during morning assembly, but I'm sorry you need to hear this at all. We got a call from Sarah's parents this morning. She passed away over the weekend."

A rock labeled _shock_ dropped to the pit of her stomach.

"W-what?" and she shook her head in disbelief. "What happened?"

Mr. Parrow's brow drew tight as he glanced at the desktop. He sighed again before speaking.

"I don't know," he said, then looked back up at her. "We only just got the call. Just to let us know. Her father says she went in her sleep. He didn't say if they know why."

A quiver jittered in Katie's lower lip. She tried to look away. To blink. But doing so would release her tears.

"I...I don't understand," she muttered, her voice cracking unevenly, then flailed her hands out on the desk. "But what about the marks? What if they're connected? I don't understand what's happened—"

"I know. And I'm sorry," Mr Parrow said, reaching out across the desk and grasping her hand. The compassion there gentled her. She took a deep breath as she choked back a sob. "I know you two were friends. This is shocking to me too."

When he saw that she was semi-composed, he let go of her hand and eased back behind his desk.

"Listen, Katie…" he started, revealing some sort of reluctance. Katie stared at him attentively. "Her father also told me...that some officers are coming to the school later today. They'll be here throughout the week. They'd like to talk to some of the students about Sarah. Would you like to speak with them?"

Katie, not quite able to speak, bit on the inside of her lip and nodded instead. Mr. Parrow looked down one more time, then stood to his feet and stepped around the desk.

"Alright. I'll call your parents. I have to speak during the assembly in a few minutes, but...you can stay here as long as you want. Okay? If you want to go home for the day, that's no problem either."

He clasped her shoulder with such a sullen look. Katie stared straight ahead.

"Okay."

Her voice was a squeak. Barely restrained. Mr. Parrow was forced to look away. He understood her grief. These circumstances were a hard thing to fathom.

It felt like hours had passed as Katie sat in silence. Mr. Parrow never came back. He was probably avoiding her. Giving her space. She was glad for it though. She'd used up all his tissues.

She thought about leaving as he'd suggested, but it was hard to do much of anything. On an impulse, she left his office to walk aimlessly down the hall. Her locker was on the other side of the school. Maybe she should go there…

"Oh my God, can you believe it? She really died?"

Katie stopped dead as her ears flexed. A group of girls were chattering in the hall.

"I know. Fuck. It's crazy. I just saw her Friday."

"Yeah, but did you _see_ her? She looked like shit—"

"Pshhh! Don't say that! What is wrong with you?"

Katie felt her teeth clench to the point of pain, and stormed away.

But nothing she did mattered. Such gossip was spreading like wildfire. Every hallway. Every classroom. From every mouth to every ear and the covered grins behind them all.

She hated it. How could they say such things? Be so cruel? Sarah was such a nice girl. A good friend. She wouldn't do any of that. She wasn't—

"I guess she was acting really weird last week. Did you hear how she started screaming at Lacey during Global?"

"Yeah. I thought it was over a boy or something?"

"I don't know. She looked freaking nuts though."

"Maybe she was on drugs. She kind of had that look about her. You know, with the eyes?"

"Yeah. She looked gross. She was all pale and stuff. And what was up with her hair?"

"Well, I heard she had a stroke. Principle Hawkins said she died in her sleep, so…"

"Yeah, but she's way too young for a stroke. It was probably drugs."

"Yeah. She prolly OD'd on her mom's sleeping pills or something."

"Really? I heard she'd been using heroin."

"What?! No way—"

"Yeah. I guess she had cigarette burns and stuff on her. I heard they do that—"

_They_? What the hell was a _they_? These stupid girls were enraging her. Sarah was a person. Their friend. She wasn't doing drugs. She couldn't be. Katie would have known. Or, at least….she thought she would have.

"It'd make sense though. You know, with all the sleeping around? I heard she's been hooking up with some older guys. That's prolly how she got it."

"Ew, you mean that nasty sore on her mouth? God. That thing had to hurt. I felt so bad— I guess...I still feel bad. Geez. I just can't wrap my head around it."

"I know. It came out of nowhere. She seemed just fine at the rally."

"Guess it goes to show you never really know a person, huh?"

"Yeah. It's a shame. She was so pretty too."

What? It was a _shame_ because she was pretty? Was that all they acknowledged about her? How badly would they talk about her if she _wasn't_ pretty?

She couldn't take any more. Their chatter was like trills, like scratches. Disgusting. They were all disgusting.

"That poor family. I feel so bad for her parents. To find her like that? Oh and so young."

Two of her teachers were talking by the doors. Katie was about to leave, walking passed them with her headphones in.

"It's heartbreaking. I can't imagine what they're going through."

"It's going to be hard on her brother. He's young, so I doubt he'll understand. They were very close, you know."

"I didn't know that, no."

And then a long sigh.

"...what a pity."


End file.
